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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840294">Level Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz'>f-ing-ruthless-baz (f_ing_ruthless_baz)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mine Right Now [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Light Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:27:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I hear Dev in the kitchen when I step out of his bedroom, and I can smell bacon grease. Nevertheless, it’s a surprise when I head towards the kitchen to see him standing there over the hob, wearing my jumper. He’s pushed the sleeves up, since they’re too long for him. He prods something in a frying pan with a spatula and swears at it; I don’t think he knows I’m here.</p>
<p>“Morning,” I say, leaning against the corner of the wall, where the living room opens into the kitchen.</p>
<p>He looks over his shoulder at me with his eyebrows pinched together and then turns back to the frying pan. “Don’t,” he says.</p>
<p>“Don’t what?”</p>
<p>“Say anything.”</p>
<p>“Why would I say anything?” I ask, grinning behind his back.</p>
<p>He prods with the spatula again. “You’re going to ask why I’m cooking, when I <i>never</i> cook, and to be quite honest I don’t have an answer for you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Shortly after moving into their flat, Dev tries to cook Niall breakfast and it doesn't go well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dev/Niall (Simon Snow)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mine Right Now [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Level Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/gifts">BazzyBelle</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For my dear BazzyBelle: You give me DeNiall, I give you DeNiall. ❤️</p>
<p>This fic is set in the Mine Right Now/Sucker Punch universe, and if you haven't read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23409415/chapters/56102554"><b>Sucker Punch</b></a> this won't really make any sense. The first part is set several years before that fic takes place, and the second part takes place after the end of that fic. So it's like a tiny prequel and sequel in one.</p>
<p>Title comes from yet another Sigrid song, <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/3o9ZhwPb3TrlgVBcMXffzj?si=lIiqTJG0Sla2HSdpiYFW8A">"Level Up"</a></p>
<p>I realize now it was a mistake to write something tagged "light angst" for someone's birthday, but it's too late now and we all just have to suffer through my fuck up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">I’m a bit disoriented, first thing in the morning. It’s been a week and I’m still not used to the new flat; I keep expecting to wake up in our dorm room. It’s worse today, waking up in Dev’s room. I’ve never slept in Dev’s room, not since we shared one.</p>
<p class="p1">The side of the bed where Dev slept is cold now, as I smooth my hand over the sheets, but I can’t keep the smile off my face. I can hardly believe any of this.</p>
<p class="p1">My t-shirt from yesterday is wedged between Dev’s mattress and the wall. I put it on and look around for my jumper, but it’s not on the floor where I left it.</p>
<p class="p1">I hear Dev in the kitchen when I step out of his bedroom, and I can smell bacon grease. Nevertheless, it’s a surprise when I head towards the kitchen to see him standing there over the hob, wearing my jumper. He’s pushed the sleeves up, since they’re too long for him. He prods something in a frying pan with a spatula and swears at it; I don’t think he knows I’m here.</p>
<p class="p1">“Morning,” I say, leaning against the corner of the wall, where the living room opens into the kitchen.</p>
<p class="p1">He looks over his shoulder at me with his eyebrows pinched together and then turns back to the frying pan. “Don’t,” he says.</p>
<p class="p1">“Don’t what?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Say anything.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Why would I say anything?” I ask, grinning behind his back.</p>
<p class="p1">He prods with the spatula again. “You’re going to ask why I’m cooking, when I <em>never</em> cook, and to be quite honest I don’t have an answer for you.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I assume this is your way of thanking me for last night,” I say as I walk up behind him. I set my hands on his hips and kiss the crown of his head. “Well, you’re welcome.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Fuck off,” he grumbles, nudging me with his shoulder until I back up. “I don’t know how to tell if the scrambled eggs are done,” he adds after a moment.</p>
<p class="p1">I lean in to look past him. “Probably two minutes before they look like that,” I say with a laugh, and he swears again and pulls them off the burner. I rub his back reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s fine, though.”</p>
<p class="p1">He shoves me aside with his elbow, this time so he can open the oven and pull out a pan of blackened streaky bacon. “Jesus fuck!” he says, and drops it onto a rack on the counter. “I don’t know why I fucking bother.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Hey,” I say gently, tugging on the sleeve of his jumper—my jumper, I suppose—as he slams the oven door shut. He lets me pull him in this time and leans against me, pushing his forehead into my shoulder. “It’s just breakfast, Dev. Eggs and bacon are pretty foolproof, it’ll be fine.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m an idiot,” he mumbles into my t-shirt. He stands straighter and takes a step back when I go to put my arm around him.</p>
<p class="p1">I have a feeling he’s not just talking about burning the bacon.</p>
<p class="p1">“Dev…”</p>
<p class="p1">“I knew that trying to cook would be a bad idea and could only lead to disaster, but I did it anyway because I’m a fucking idiot—”</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re not,” I say. “It wasn’t a bad idea and it’s not a disaster. Look.” I take a fork from the nearest drawer and stab a chunk of overcooked egg. It’s rubbery when I chew it, and bland because apparently Dev didn’t even use any salt or pepper, but I manage to get it down. “See? Perfectly edible.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t have to do that,” he mutters, with his head turned away from me.</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m serious,” I say, and I take another forkful from the pan. “It’s fine, Dev. Everything’s fine.”</p>
<p class="p1">He looks back at me, scowling. “You always say that.”</p>
<p class="p1">“And I’m always right,” I say with a smirk, and he chuckles sarcastically.</p>
<p class="p1">“Right…”</p>
<p class="p1">I make a big production of taking another bite of the eggs and he rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “Delicious, darling,” I say, and then grin at him with the fork between my teeth.</p>
<p class="p1">“God, you’re annoying,” he says, lowering his head bashfully.</p>
<p class="p1">I toss the fork aside and it lands on the countertop with a clang as I take a step towards him. “C’mon, you love it,” I say, tugging on his sleeve again. “And I love that you made me breakfast.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I didn’t make it for—” He stops and looks up at me when I place my hands on the sides of his neck, brushing my thumbs along his jawline.</p>
<p class="p1">“I mean it,” I say quietly. His arms come up around my waist when I lean in closer, almost like it’s instinctive at this point. “It’ll be fine.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t know that,” he says. He’s almost whispering now, scanning my face like he’s looking for some sort of answer. I’m not even sure he knows what the question is.</p>
<p class="p1">“I do know that.” I kiss the high point of one of his cheeks. “I’m very clever.”</p>
<p class="p1">He presses the side of his face against mine and tightens his grip around my waist. “You’re full of shit, Niall,” he says with a breathy laugh.</p>
<p class="p1">I smile into his cheek and kiss him again, lower down on his face. My t-shirt bunches when he runs a hand up my back. We said we weren’t going to do this anymore, once we moved in. But last night was proof that things change. (Or maybe it was proof that they never do.)</p>
<p class="p1">He tilts his head up and I kiss him just below his jaw, next to my thumb. I lift my head to look him in the eye, but I can’t bring myself to ask the thing I most want to ask. I think he knows anyway; his eyes flit down to my lips, just for a second.</p>
<p class="p1">“Dev…”</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s a bad idea,” he says.</p>
<p class="p1">“What if it’s not, though?” I reply, hovering just in front of his face. “What if it’s the best idea we ever had?”</p>
<p class="p1">He swallows. “It’ll just complicate things.”</p>
<p class="p1">“That’s what you said about the stuff last night, too.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, and maybe I was right.”</p>
<p class="p1">I bump his nose with mine. “What are you afraid of?” I ask softly.</p>
<p class="p1">“Everything,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s better not knowing if we— It’s just better this way.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Right…”</p>
<p class="p1">“I… I should clean up.” He reaches for my wrists and gently urges me to let him go.</p>
<p class="p1">So I do.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“What the hell are you doing?” I ask when I walk out to the kitchen.</p>
<p class="p1">It’s our first morning back in our flat since the wedding, and I thought we’d be able to have a nice lie-in since neither of us have to be back at work yet, but Dev seems to have other plans.</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m cooking, what’s it look like?” he replies without turning around.</p>
<p class="p1">“It looks like you’re trying to ruin some perfectly good eggs,” I say, stepping up behind him and tucking my arms around his middle.</p>
<p class="p1">“This is what’s known as a <em>nice gesture</em>, Niall.” He moves some scrambled egg around the pan with a spatula, and I don’t tell him it’s too far done already. “You could at least be somewhat appreciative.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, I am,” I say, leaning in. I gently bite his ear. “I’ll be even more appreciative if you don’t make me eat that.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re going to eat it and you’re going to like it,” he says. He turns the burner off and immediately starts dumping the eggs onto the two plates next to him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Aye aye, Captain,” I say as I wrap my arms more firmly around him and start sliding my hands up his jumper—my jumper. He yelps; I think my hands are cold.</p>
<p class="p1">“Cool your jets, there, Kelly,” he says, swatting my arms away.</p>
<p class="p1">“That’s <em>Kelly-Grimm</em> to you,” I reply, reaching past him to grab a piece of streaky bacon that’s already on the plate—and not burnt to a crisp this time.</p>
<p class="p1">He snorts. “You’re not changing your name, you git.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I could,” I say while chewing. “I could become a Grimm and inherit your father’s company. Turn it into a porn site.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, have fun with that,” he says as he carries our plates over to the breakfast counter. I follow him over and take his hand before he can sit down. He looks back at me curiously. “What—”</p>
<p class="p1">The rest of his question gets muffled when I kiss him, but he soon shuts up and kisses me back. He reaches behind my head and slides his fingers through my hair, and I can’t help but smile against his lips.</p>
<p class="p1">“What… was that for?” he asks when I draw back, still smiling. He’s smiling too.</p>
<p class="p1">“I love that you made me breakfast,” I say.</p>
<p class="p1">“I didn’t make it for <em>you</em>,” he says, but then he gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Git. You taste like bacon.”</p>
<p class="p1">I steal another piece of bacon when I sit down, this time off his plate, and he elbows me in the side.</p>
<p class="p1">“Fuck off,” he says, stealing some of my bacon in return.</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, Dev,” I say, grinning with my mouth full. “You love it.”</p>
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